When She Was One Of The Living
by VioletW
Summary: Post-apocalyptic Keffy one-shot companion piece to Those Of Us Left. Side story of how Effy met Emily and Katie.


**Hello there, here is a surprise little one-shot tie in**** to my other fic, Those Of Us Left (Naomily based). I enjoyed writing the Keffy storyline quite a bit, but there is no room for it in the actual story. So, I created my first one-shot and wrote it that way, and I also tried a bit of a different writing style as well.**

**I hope you like it :) **

As your lungs bleed, as you breathe the pollution the world left behind, you can't help but think this is the way it's always been. Just another excuse to turn to violence and hatred.

One of these days, some tosser is going to recognize you. Some idiot, somewhere, is going to hear you speak, and it will all be over. Humorous, how you can just walk among the crowd of the bewildered and frightened without but a noticing pair of eyes landing upon you. You can be invisible when you want to be, can't you? Of all the things to become in this world, a murderer, a thief; a fucking drug trafficker - you choose to be a terrorist. For lack of a better word, you lead your troops from way back in the darkness to snap the people back to reality. A reality of despair; with a faint smell of hope.

You are the leader of the Butterflies, the rebellion cell that spans across entire countries in secret. You lead the revolution with soldiers and determination, and it has been one long, and hell of a road. But you think to yourself, that in some small way, this hell is a gift. All wrapped up with a sparkling little bow and presented at your fingertips. The path you were headed on before all of this? It lead to dirty drugs, anonymous sex, and everything else but rock and roll. The people that passed you by in life, the ones you left behind; they weren't much different than the people that wander now. They were just better at hiding, then. Now, no one cares to hide their animalistic sides, they are worn like badges of honour. You've seen rape and murder before this virus ever reared its ugly head, and to be quite honest the way people look when they turn; mirrors exactly who they were - and are - underneath.

'

'

Today is no different from any other day, you think. But, you struggle to figure out what to wear, not like there is such a thing as making a fashion statement anymore. And for some reason, having a slight wardrobe gives you comfort, even if it is the exact same amount of clothes that you had before the outbreak. Three different pairs of pants, one sweater, two jackets, and about five different shirts; give or take one of them for filth or condition. Knickers and socks are only ever one in a million, as they are quite hard to come by. So you just rinse them out every night in the hopes that it will make some difference. But, as you've come to enjoy, commando isn't always a bad feat. Pun intended. So today you opt for wearing your light green, slightly ripped and over-worn fatigues; pairing them up with your only form of footwear - clunky combat boots. You think this wouldn't be a bad attempt if things were different, military style was starting to catch on before shit hit the fan. But you've barely decided which shirt to pull on when one of your men decides to knock on the door. Being the shy girl that you are, you decide to answer the door - wearing nothing but your black bra and pants that you decided to wear - fully aware that it would startle whoever was knocking for your attention.

A few hilarious stuttering sessions later, and your soldier - who turned out to be female, by the way - has managed to splutter out something about having to go into town for supplies before you usher her off. Why not make an appearance today, eh? It is nice and sunny out, and who knows. You may be able to get some form of a sun tan, even in the middle of autumn. So, you finally decide on wearing your grey, long-sleeved Henley, but decide to leave all three buttons at the top un-done. You must look something like a truck driver, or maybe a waif, from how clunky you feel. You were so used to wearing baggy shirts and skinny jeans, flaunting what you had while seemingly covering it up for none to see at the very same time. But now, being as how every article of clothing is virtually unclean and oversized; leaves you feeling a tad out of your element. But, what does that matter. Comfort and efficiency over style. Your sizeable and albeit comfortable attire has saved your behind a few times now.

You saunter outside of the safe house - pulling on your black trench as you do so - in one of the few small towns left undetected by the militia hunting you; and head south towards the tunnels. The man-made, ant-like secret tunnels you and your people use to get inside and out of the zones. Its difficult, having to hide from everything, from everyone to keep you and your people safe. But, being that it is better than living under the roof that is a corrupt and down right messy form of Martial Law, you are happy to oblige. The men do shift work, anyways.

You make your way quietly and swiftly through the tunnels, and having done this so many times before; you end up at your destination without even having to use your flashlight. You pop out of the wall, earning a cheerful nod in your direction from your guard Gordon as you slump out.

Soon, you end up outside, the suns rays beating down on you with lucid heat. You feel it burn through the insides of your body, and you can't help but think about what would happen if you were able to touch the sun. What would happen if you swallowed it, how it would look to see its rays shooting out from the ends of your hair and the tips of your fingers. You laugh at the thought, how seemingly impossible that would be, but it's nice to get away inside your head for a while; isn't it? You run a hand up your arm then, dragging those two long sleeves up with you, as you roll up and trace the scars on your arm at the same time. It feels like so long ago, when the blast sent shards of glass in your direction. You remember the feel of warm blood streaming down your face, and you think you must look something like a monster now; having not seen your reflection in what feels like centuries. Though, from what you can gather from your mates, you are still as stunning as ever; being able to charm and play with whoever you want.

You stand in line at the ration station for what seems to be an hour, and it doesn't bother you in the slightest. Sure, the smell some people have on them is enough to make you want to vomit, but it seems cunning to be standing in line - like everyone else - waiting for your meal. Everyone around you unaware to your importance, and to your abilities. You are given a can of _pork 'n beans_, with a couple seemingly stale pieces of ripped bread. And it doesn't bother you that the bread has been ripped by hands that weren't your own; because it** can't** bother you. So you smile one of your smart assed smiles at the soldier - mentally taking note of his name tag - and make a hasty exit with your food. You place the can into one of your huge side pockets, and start to wander while picking at the edge of your bread like a bird.

And then, it happens.

You hear her before you see her, and what you hear sends chills down your spine. You turn sharply, and see a dark-haired girl shooting her mouth off at Liam._ I told you, I made a note of his name._ You walk swiftly over to this new found spectical, and can hear her screams getting louder.

"I can see the box labelled 'food' from here!"

The soldier retorts something stupid at her - it must be stupid - because you see her whole body go from bad; to worse.

"You fucking tosser! Can't read, I see?" Her anger makes you chuckle a little.

"Peanut dick?" She waves a hand in front of his amused face.

"Yeah, you. It says 'food'. F.O.O.D."

That about ends Mr. Liam's patience, as he pulls out his revolver from his hip and points it at her head; angrily.

You've gotten much closer now, and haven't stopped as it registers in your mind what she looks like. This girl, with dark purple hair and a lisp that makes you gooey all over, is actually a little small for the size of her voice. She has on a black jumper and light purple joggers, and she is holding the hand of a younger girl; who looks like she could be her twin. Though, their clear age difference is enough to squash that thought in your brain.

You've reached her now, and you don't know why but you reach out and place your hand on her shoulder. Somehow, her anger vanishes at your touch, and so does the vision of Liam pointing a deadly weapon at her face. You notice him put his gun down, and that is all the incentive you need to relish this moment. You and she are making earth shattering eye contact, and it sends you to cloud nine. Her big brown eyes are staring at you, into you, and you don't mind this feeling. Like everything around you has stopped, like everything you have been through has lead to this one moment; and it's all so worth it. You're so welcoming to the thought of some form of happiness, that any kind of fear escapes you entirely. If there's one thing you've learned in this life, it is that good things are fleeting; and it'd be stupid to hide away from something - or someone, that makes you happy. She opens her mouth to say something, but you shut her up with a smirk. You reach down into your pocket - still keeping that intense eye contact - and pull out that can of beans Liam gave you not but minutes before. She finally breaks eye contact with you then, and looks down to your hand. She looks back up to you, asking for permission, so you nod. She reaches out, takes the can, and it sends sparks flying through your body as one of her fingertips graze your palm.

"...th...anks" she manages, and you finally break eye contact with her for just a second as you regard her little companion with a small smile.

"Come with me." is all you say - more like whisper - and as you turn around, you reach out for her arm and link it with your own. That hand is full with your gift, and the other is intertwined with her sisters', but you **need** the bodily contact. You pull her along at what feels like lightning speed, but it doesn't matter; she is keeping up and hasn't muttered a word of protest.

In a matter of minutes you have arrived, it's nothing special but it is enough to create some form of decency as all three of you sit at the little iron backyard set of a small table and three chairs.

"Why..." Is the first word you hear that breaks the silence, and you regard her; smirk plastered firmly on your lips.

"I wasn't hungry." Is what you reply with a small shrug, and you must have startled her with the sound of your voice. And you like the reaction you get out of her with each word that rolls off your tongue, so you decide to speak again; shocking yourself a little as the words escape your lips.

"And I couldn't let Liam kill you; you're too nice to look at."

Her companion scoffs at that, and it makes you laugh a little.

"Beautiful? Katie? Are you deaf, or what?"

"Yes." Is all you supply, not daring once to break the staring contest you have with... Katie. _You like that._

And within the span of a few short minutes, you feel like a happy family. You learn that Katie is the older sister, and Emily is the youngest. Katie is a verbal tyrannosaurus, and Emily is a surprisingly intelligent and quiet - but witty - version. You talk, really talk with them, and it doesn't bother you in the least. Because for some reason you are drawn to Katie and Emily, and the thought of them not being a part of your life doesn't seem optional anymore.

;

;

The first time you kiss her, it's desperate.

You've become a sort of protector to the pair of them, and that doesn't bother you in the slightest. But today, was not like any ordinary day. Today, the town you have settled into has finally caught wind of who you are in the form of some freshly delivered wanted posters. And it catches you a little off guard - though you would never admit that - because you've enjoyed this time in the little town; with these two girls. The soldiers catch a clue then, and pair Katie and Emily up to be in your crew. Though, that's hardly the case considering you haven't even told her your name. Granted, she calls you Effy, but that's hardly a clear indication to Elizabeth, is it?

A riot broke out in the town in search for you, and it didn't take long for Katie and Emily to become your incentive. They are captured, and held in a overly guarded warehouse on the outskirts of town. Your men grumble, but agree to help you rescue the girls, because doing good has always been your motto; even though the world doesn't see the fact that you are trying to pull them from the darkness as a good thing. Your men manage to take out the guards outside of the warehouse quietly, but you tell them to stand down as you enter through a small window alone. You need the perimeter secured, and you're not a prude to doing your own dirty work. You can hear men thumping about in the next two rooms, and take each one by one; quiet as a snake. Winding your way from room to room, there is only two soldiers left now; as you wipe your bloody knife clean on the thigh of your left pant leg. You have always been good at scanning your surroundings, so you pick up an empty bottle and throw it into the next room - shattering as it hits the floor. One guard decides to check the noise out - which was your plan all along - and as he exits the room, you enter quietly; staying in the shadows. Emily notices you first, not like that is a surprise considering she is the only one who isn't blindfolded and gagged.

It makes you laugh internally, thinking about the slurs Katie must have spit at the soldiers that earned her such a degrading sight. You motion for Emily to shut her eyes, which she happily complies to; squeezing her eyes shut with all her might. Quickly and quietly you grab soldier number one around the neck and swiftly run your blade across the width of his neck; carving him another smile as he slumps noiseless to the floor. Emily still has her eyes closed, and you see Katie stir at the new found silence in the room. Soldier number two hollers out to his deceased partner, and becomes suspicious when he doesn't secure a response. As he bounds back into the room, you are standing in the doorway; powerful smirk plastered on your face and your blade set firmly into the side of his neck. It makes you smile, because he _literally_ walked right into your blade, as he drops to the floor in a fit of gurgling. It's all said and done, but one of your men radio's to you that more are coming for you; that the perimeter cannot be held forever. So you untie the girls' hands first, and as they wring at their wrists forcefully, you pull the scarves off Katie's eyes and out of her mouth. Her eyes open wide in initial shock - because you must look something like a messy painter, with red being the only color in your palate - before you see her anger rise. She tenses her body and balls her fists up in anger, and is in the middle of bellowing out "Who the fuck are yo-" Before you silence her with a searing kiss. And it says everything you don't have time to explain, and it's begging her to listen to you. It's desperate, but it's incredible at the same time.

;

;

When you ask Katie to marry you, it takes everything in you not to roar with laughter.

It doesn't take long for Katie to become yours. You've never been more smitten, and can't help but think she is your second chance. Your savior, your everything. Its not in the way that she greets you when you come back - jumping up and wrapping her short little arms around your neck as you catch her and attach your lips to hers - and its not in the way that you've come to care for Emily like she was your own sibling. It's not in the way she looks in the morning, dark hair strewn across her face and small little chest rising and falling to the sound of her breathing. It's not in the way that when she wakes - and you always seem to wake up moments before she does, so that you can take in the sight of her sleeping - she smiles, and instinctively traces the scar above your eyebrow gently before kissing you good morning. And it's not in the way that she takes care of you, cleaning your many wounds gently upon your return from warfare, folding your clothes neatly while you are gone or packing you small snacks for the road. It isn't any of those things that make you want to marry her; it's the fact that she - and Emily - are the only things in this world that matter to you.

You find it funny, how you teach Emily some basic self-defence moves when Katie refuses any herself. You had to hide the present you got for Emily, because you knew it would infuriate Katie to know you brought home a little switch blade for her young sister. But, you still want to marry her, even though the sentiment hasn't been around for over a decade now. It humours you that when you bring it up to Emily - seemingly to the young girl that you are asking for permission - she just smiles kindly at you and says simply: "Katie would like that". _Hopefully, _you think to yourself,_ it will still mean something_; as you bring it up to her over breakfast.

She spits out her water - which would frustrate you if it were anyone else, given how hard water is to come by - and regards you with shocked, bulging eyes.

"You want to do _what_?"

"Marry you." You repeat again evenly, and you thank whatever God is up there for making sure you didn't have a drink of anything yourself as she springs herself at you, lips first. And you instinctively smile into the kiss, because you can't stop it; you don't want to stop it.

You barter off some grubby guy at a ratty old trading station for two gold rings - because after all, you did propose without a ring, _you tit_ - while Katie comes bouncing over after the trade, blissfully unaware you had to threaten the guy just moments before. _She has never liked that side of you_.

"Look!" she squeals "I got us chains!" You don't understand what she is getting at, first. But after she reads your clearly confused expression, she giggles - kisses your nose sweetly - and elaborates.

"I don't want to do the traditional bollocks of wearing them on our fingers. Here," She holds out the chains again, "We can wear them around our necks." She beams enthusiastically at you, and you bite back the remark in your throat that goes something along the lines of _'it still means ownership in dog-collar form'._

'

'

You knew this was coming, you knew this would happen. You've prepared yourself for loss your entire life, you've lived a life of misery since long before the outbreak. But all that mental preparation hasn't been enough to keep you from losing your soul.

The day was a wonderful one, you finally took a day off in what felt like months, and spent it with Katie. Emily shooed you two off, wanting nothing to do with your _'sickening love bollocks'_ and opted to stay and play with a small child - the son of a soldier in your frighteningly smaller group of Butterflies. She has grown up, and it seems silly to still be thinking of the girl - now twenty-two years of age - to still be little. But, you can't help but see her that way, no matter how hard you try.

You don't have many options for places to go, considering your face is plastered everywhere with huge 'Wanted' slogans sprawled across them in red ink, so you can't take her into the zones. It pains you, because you know how much she enjoys wandering around those trading stations, looking something like a window shopper at a shopping center in another life; and the sight brings you happiness that she can still get lost in an old issue of Heat or Vogue like the world hasn't changed. So you decide to take her into an abandoned (and secretly cleared by your guards) MAC store, and watch as her face lights up with delight. There are still bushels of make-up on the shelves, seeing as how there isn't exactly a need for it anymore unless it is any shade of green for camouflage. She spends about forty-five minutes talking to you about make-up techniques, and cursing you for looking like you always have some form of dark make-up around your eyes that give you an air of mystery and smugness. (Years of caked on, black eyeliner application will leave it permanent, you guess.) But, she doesn't shy to point out that you are just a big ball of love - at least to her - as she wanders the isles of the store. You get tired of listening eventually, and settle for snaking your arms around her from behind as she looks at an old advert with a gorgeous looking Charlize Theron, and start to pepper kisses along her neck. You take her then, lifting her up onto the check-out counter, and you put so much meaning into your embrace that the world should have imploded at the sheer force you and Katie have between the two of you.

After your day of passion, you end up back at the barracks; sore and exhausted. Emily is already asleep, so you both slink in quietly and retire for the night in each other's arms; the spine-tingling smell of Kat Von D Saint still present on Katie's soft skin.

Your blissful rest ends abruptly, as heat and burn invade your nostrils. You wake with a start, and are staring right into the eyes of flames erupting outside your door. You shove Katie and Emily awake, and usher them briskly towards the back door, but tell the two of them to wait inside for you to check the perimeter to ensure a safe escape. But as you launch out the door, Katie doesn't hinder your warnings; and follows hot on your heels. It's only after you are hit in the face with a blunt object do you realize she has followed you; her screams at the soldier awakening within you a sickening feeling of terror in your very bones. Everything is a blur, the soldier has both you and Katie down on your knees in a desperate attempt at claiming some dominance on his part, as he waves his UMP. 45 metres from your face. His words are muffled, and your lack of response angers the soldier, as he turns his attention to Katie. It's in this moment that you die - she is face to face with a deadly weapon, and instead locks her eyes with yours as tears start to well up in her eyes - as he carelessly pulls the trigger. Katie's limp body falls lifeless on the ground next to you, her head landing in your lap, and you can hear the soldier let out a laugh and say something along the lines of _'she fell funny' _as you swiftly grab at a wrench from the floor and hammer it into the face of the soldier. The adrenaline pumping tune of Animal Alpha's Bundy doesn't stop bursting through your veins as you thrust your power at the anonymous - and unlucky soldier. You hit him again, and you don't intend to stop until you can't recognize his face; or at least until you can't lift your arm. The blows are blacked out of your recollection, and you only come back to the world as tears stream down your cheeks and Katie's cold and lifeless body is held tightly in your arms. You sit like that for what feels like forever, silently wishing and praying for this to be a dream; that you will wake up to her face again in the morning. But morning never comes, instead Emily does. She comes to your side, quietly sobbing, as she takes your hand and tells you it is time to go. You lose all sense of emotion then, you've snapped. There is nothing left for you, it's all about Emily now. You must protect her, and there doesn't need to be any emotion in that. You stand, eyes fixed onto the distance, as Emily takes your hand and places a small metal object in your hand.

Katie's necklace.

**Thank you for reading, loves. Please drop me an opinion? lets me know you enjoyed it :)**

**xoV**


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